


Skies clear, course straight

by creatorRunning (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors but they're also the Beta Trolls, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Complicatedness, Eridan but every time he says w take a shot, God these tags are trainwrecks, Graphic depictions of the horrors of a determined supporting cast, I can stop any time, I just don't., JUST1C3!!!, Naut Suitable for Wwork, Nautical Themes, Not suitable for Trolls under 6 sweeps of age, Original Character(s), ships- both types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/creatorRunning
Summary: Ancestors/Beta Trolls mix up. Focuses on the pirates of a Condesce ruled world, filled with tricks, traps and no end of snarky trolls who don't know how to deal with their shit.





	1. BEGINNINING.

Waves lapped against the hull of the ship. The gentle rock of the hull belied the tense nature of the ship's captain. One Eridan Ampora, Orphaner Dualscar, Emissary and Privateer of Her Imperious Condescencion stared hard at the door of his quarters from his desk, studying intently, it seemed, the grain of the wood. He quietly flipped his throwing knife into his right hand, raising and preparing to throw at something only he could see. The door flew open with a whoosh, and a would-be assassin ran full-pelt into his room, only to take a knife in the throat, gargle once, and die. She was holding a note in one hand and what looked like a poisoned knife in the other, with a familiar stylised M on the front, representing both a symbol and a name. He sighed.

"She could send me a note in person, like a fuckin normal person." He snorted, thinking about his kismesis. "Or not." Opening the note, he found a date, a place and a time, with the words  _be there_ added in cursive lettering. Three days from now, and by the sound of things, something big was going down. Vri- _Mindfang's_ normal incursions had quieted down over the last week, as if planning something. He tapped the note with his claw thoughtfully, and tucked it into his trenchcoat. Seconds later, a heavily-built blue blood burst into the room, the door awkwardly pushing the body out of the way. Dualscar looked up, as if surprised by the entry.

"For shame, Markes, for shame." Eridan deadpaned his expression sad and let down and tone lacking any real bite. A routine established by perigrees of... communication... with his kismesis unfolded.

"I'm ever so sorry for failing to catch the assassin, Captain." He returned, expression the picture of penance.

"What? No. I coulda been jacking off, for all the care you showed. Privvacy is evverything for a pirate."

"Privateer." He corrected, a small smile tugging his lips.

"Eh, same dif, only one gets the noose, and the other gets the loot."

"I still would like to know how she gets her... messengers past the crew."

Eridan answered with a shark-toothed grin: "That's for me to knoww, and you..."

"To worry about, Captain."

The privateer pulled a bottle of port from underneath the table, and poured it into two glasses. He pushed one to the bodyguard and took a sip.

"Fruity," He commented. "Eastern Gresteria. 1543 harvest."

"Brillaint, Captain."

"S'what it says on the bottle," he returned, grinning again.

"Are we talking about the note, sir?"

"Hmm. Wwell, it starts with the wwords: dear sexy seadwweller, and ends in the wwords: unfortunately, the wwriggler wwas on fire wwhen it wwas left here, so wwe ate it. Much obliged. P.S., suck my bulge."

"Another day, another fine deed in the name of the Empress." Eridan handed him the note. His eyes skim over the contents, committing it to memory. The date and time are engraved in the privateer's skull already, and he feels that old kismetic spark flare up again, and he grins.

_I'll be there,_ he thinks, already planning.  _I'll fuckin be there._


	2. CONTINUEINININGS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued??????  
> Who knows?????  
> Also, I like second person better than third, it really highlights the focus of the story.  
> So y'all get Amporavision.

Four days until the meeting, and you are bored out of your pan waiting. You wonder, not for the first, or any number under 56th, time what this meeting is about, whether you'll have a showdown, will there be hot hatesex. These most essential questions run through your head. You vaguely remember a slave batch she stole from you a few weeks ago. It contained a tailor of some renown. Maybe you can be less gentle with Mindfang's outfits, seeing as they're repairable. You grin, relishing the idea of being able to piss her off, and still save face by painting the slave batch as a gift. Your genius knows no bounds.

You literally walk into a door, not two seconds later.

"Fuck," you mutter.

Your crew is highly trained, and take care of most of the... shippy parts of the ship. You mostly handle stratagem and leadership. That basically entails that they can look up to someone. Whether they doing it laughing is none of your business.

"Long live the Condesce!" Calls the crew from the messhall.

"Seein' as I age about fifty years each time I hear that, I'm wwondering if it's more curse than praise. Like "oh wwoww, you get to outlivve evveryone you wwill evver care about, fuckin fantastic," y'knoww?

A low chuckle runs through the crew, and you smile. You straighten your collar, grab a plate of indiscriminate animal parts and sit down. Markes updates you on the ship's condition, and everything is tip top. You will, in two days from now, set off to the rendezvous point in time for the meeting. The ship's cannons are ready, the mast is polished, and you can almost see yourself in the mirror. Of course, the meeting is much more likely to just consist of you two awkwardly renting a room in the inn you always visit, and your crews just as awkwardly staring each other down. But even so, you miss these caliganous romps. The Empress has been really riding your bulge lately about catching Mindfang, which is weird, because usually quadrants are held as almost above the law. A low blood killed three commanding officers and just because they had done it to protect a moirail they were let off with only superficial torture, hardly any of it psychological.

So exceptionally weird is that the Empress has sent three, count em, three Legislacerator Lords and Ladies to capture her. This is the most worrying part of the capture. The only other time the Empress has sent three Legislacerlords is when there was a large scale rebellion that got farther than the average two steps, and they were sent to round up the leaders and deal with them. Oh sure, pirates have always been seen as rebelling against the Empress, but really they're like flies to a horse. Annoying, maybe, but harmless enough. They do carry the disease of defiance, but a flick of the tail quells any disturbance.

You pause briefly, and wonder to yourself how the hell is that a good metaphor, you'd get shot for calling the Empress a horse. But you have to admit to yourself privately that it gets the point across, at least.

Still, just because she's your kismesis doesn't mean you can't worry.

And right now, you worry.

\--

Markes pokes his head into your office, and you're about to make the age-old joke about privacy when he says two simple words.

"It's time."

You instantly nod, kick back your chair and start to get ready. First you inspect your outfit. Not a speck on it, as per the norm. You make a big deal of wrapping your scarf around your neck properly and slowly, making sure it won't easily snag or catch. Next, you wash your face, scrubbing hard to remove the layer of grime plastered on your face. That done, you click your hidden blade into place in your boot. If you stamp hard enough, it will launch out at a 45 degree angle, right where a prospective assassin would most benefit from it. Three others follow in various other placements.

You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing your hair between your horns, before you walk out of your office to officially inspect the ship (again), striding purposefully onto the deck. You grin fiercely as you see the tip of a blue sail roll over the horizon. The first thing you can see in detail is her standing out on her ship's deck manning the wheel. You plant a boot on the ship's side and drape one arm over your knee, waiting for her to get closer. The legislacerators are due in six days, so you fully intend to find out why the Empress feels it necessary to go after your quadrants. One explanation flits back and forth, but it's ridiculous.

She'd never go that far.

\--

Docked and booked, you both walk to your rented room, her grin highlighting your own kismetic desires, but as you shut the door, you grab her arm and hiss " _Wwhat the fuck are you doin."_

She sighs, her whole frame seeming to shrink with the exhalation. "So you know."

"Damn fuckin right I know, and the Condy herself ain't far off the mark now either."

You have no earthly clue as to what she's talking about. Your strategy is a short-sighted one: trick her into telling you everything. By the look on her face though, Mindfang's panicking. "I can help. You just need to trust me."

She breathes, once, twice, then nods. "Okay. This was never really going to be our normal visit, was it?" She asks, mournful, a flavour which looks weird on her usually vivacious personality. You feel your anger fade slightly, so you press on.

"The Empress has sent three legislacerlords after you. I can help, but you need to tell me everything."

She sits on the bed, subdued. She begins to speak.

\--

"I'm involved in a rebellion."

"Yep, got that bit, gonna need more swweetheart."

She looks at you fiercly. "This is no ordinary rebellion of a few redbloods, this is a movement!" she hisses.

You maintain an unimpressed facade. "I'm sure. So is security important to this, this rebellion?"

She nods sharply. "Incredibly."

You sigh. "An' yet, I wwalked in here, no idea about any rebellion and got you to tell me evverything about the rebellion the Empress needs to crush it: that you are in it, all through a crude autosuggestion. And on top of that, I'm _me_. I'm a privateer of the Empress, and I have every reason to tell her to gain a fucking feather in my cap!" Your forceful tone shocks you both. You meant to play it cool.

Well that's out the window. She looks like she's about to bolt.

"Look, wwe may be kismesises, but I care ab-you're not completely irredeemable, is wwhat I mean. And you can't fuckin expect me to go to the Empress wwith this unless I thought it wwould make you safer!"

"She would have me killed for my beliefs," Mindfang bared her neck, daring you to disagree. Instead, you nod.

"Of fucking course she wwould. That was never in doubt. Noww, you'vve left me with twwo equally bad options."

"Which are?" she asked, fearful.

"Ditch the rebellion and hope the Condy doesn't catch your name from one of her vvictims, or try your damned hardest to win this fight."

The hard light you missed returns to her eyes. "The first is no option."

"Second one's not either. You're in a hole here, Mindfang."

"I will fight for that in which I believe in! No less!" She shreiked.

"Then you shall die as deluded as those before you!" You roar, losing it completely.

"Then I shall die knowing that what I did was right!"

"Right and Wrong are a fool's game played after the battle! It is of no comfort when the irons are used on you!"

You hesitated. "And besides that, what do you, a pirate, know about running an Empire of over four hundred million Trolls?" you ask, gentler.

She calmed, seeming embarrassed by her outburst. "I would not take power. It belongs to the man who started this all."

Your mind reeled with this new information. All you can manage is "that's not like you."

She laughed harshly, a wry, self-mocking claiming her features. "He speaks with a conviction... It is unlike anything I have ever heard."

"Well, then I must meet this fine specimen of the Troll species."

She looked at you wildly. "You must be insane. You think he would let a member of the ruling class, a part of the problem, into his tents?"

You filed that piece of information away. Tents mean mobilisation. Your guess is that he can find no way to escape the Empire for any length of time, and instead travels to evade capture.

"What better way to find a solution than to recruit the problem?"

"If you really mean this..."

"Oh, but I do," you say, silky and persuasive.

"...then I must ask for you to accompany me to the next meeting, three months from now. I will guide you with my ship, and it shall look as if you chase me. Until then, we must keep up the pretence of ignorance. Meaning looting, stealing and fighting."

"My three favvourite wwords," you grin a seadweller's grin, full of teeth.

You both stood awkwardly for a minute, unsure what to do or say.

"Wwe still gonna have hot sex?" You enquire, conversationally.

"About fucking time," she bursts out.

You grin, and the evening  _really_ begins.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that's definitely fire.

**Author's Note:**

> You read this... Woo. I'll update it, maybe. But hey, no difference to you, you wasted five minutes on this exposition chapter with no actual story afterwards. Constructive Criticism is appreciated (lies), and I will update soon (more lies). I swear that this will not end up with a super unlikely bullshit happy ending (he liessssss).  
> Is my table on fire?


End file.
